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Xie Lian had been keeping a close eye on the clouds all morning, and was certain that before sunset, there would be a thunderstorm. He was between towns, up in the hills, wandering through tiny villages to even smaller hamlets, not yet able to find anywhere to settle for a while. His pack, full of various random items as usual, was awkward on his back, a seam beginning to split and threatening to spill the things he'd collected, and his bamboo hat needed repair. He had been travelling around for nearly a hundred years now, after his time spent trapped in Yong'an.
After clawing himself out of the coffin, bloody fingers scraped to bone, simply lying on the ground in the rain felt like too much stimulation. It took him years to gather himself together, piece by weary piece, to find generous souls who gave him clothing and food and shelter for a while. He moved on as soon as he could, wandering in directions even he didn't know, from the cold northwestern deserts eastward toward the sea, and back again southward into hills and valleys.
On this particular hill, the wind was picking up, clouds lowering, darker and darker. He took another look up and sighed. Time to brace for getting soaked through. Again. Rounding a corner, glancing around for any possible shelter, he saw in the distance the distinctive outline of a temple, just as the rain started coming down. He couldn’t see what temple it was, but he wasn’t picky. Gathering up his robes, he ran for it, sliding to a stop on the steps leading up to it, and looking up at the establishment plaque to see what god this place belonged to.
The writing was unreadable, and he wasn’t sure if this was due to the writing itself or the rain now heavily slanting downward into his face. He opened the wide doors and retreated into the temple proper, gazing up at the large statue set upon the altar. A statue holding a long sword in a defensive position in one hand, and a fresh white flower in the other.
A statue of himself.
Confused, he looked around wildly for a second, almost thinking that it must be some kind of joke. Then, tentatively, he set his pack down against the wall near the exit, and ventured closer.
The statue was beautifully carved, giving the impression of life being captured almost in motion, its lips half-parted, eyes speaking eloquently, gazing toward the viewer with compassion and thoughtful understanding. The carved robes were painted exquisitely, fluttering around the statue’s body almost as if they were real.
On the altar before the statue lay offerings: ripe fruit, steamed buns so fresh they were almost still warm, trinkets of jewellery, treasured possessions of ordinary people. Xie Lian could almost, though not quite, hear the prayers rising from them, prayers for protection, for guidance, for understanding.
Unlike some other temples he had been in, in this temple there were no written rules, just painted murals along the walls showing people standing, hands pressed together, at worship, or at most kneeling on one knee. For the most part, the people in the murals looked ordinary: young men and women, elderly couples, a ragged-looking child with bandages on his head, a tired-looking baker, a smiling blacksmith, a young soldier in Xian Le armour, a weaver presenting a long roll of folded cloth, but some were unusual to say the least. One looked like a frog as tall as a man, another was clearly a chicken, still another was endowed with three heads.
Xie Lian was fascinated. Before long he began to notice some people wearing masks, one of them a tall youth with his hair in a long ponytail, a smiling mask on his face. He went over, carefully reaching out. “Wu Ming?” he asked softly, caressing the painted wall. “How are you known here?” It seemed even more of a mystery than a temple to himself.
After a long time looking at the murals, studying them all carefully, he wandered back around to see if the rain had stopped. The clouds were dark outside, and the rain was steady, the kind of ceaseless rain that soaks a person through in seconds and then doesn’t let up for hours. It was late afternoon by this time, and Xie Lian knew very well from prior experience that if he left shelter now, there was little to no chance he would find anywhere to stay by the time nightfall arrived, and in the wet, too. His immortal body didn’t allow him to get sick, but being wet, hungry, cold, and tired with nowhere to stay wasn’t appealing.
He made up his mind. He would stay the night here, and if the rain cleared up in the morning, would make some inquires in the nearby towns as to why there was a temple to the Flower-Crowned Martial God in this place, not only because it was a fair distance from where Xian Le had once been, but also because Xie Lian had believed up until this very moment that he was a god without believers, condemned to wander the mortal world for eternity, without peace and without luck, as punishment for his crimes.
As he laid out his bedroll on the floor near the altar, his mind went back to the painting of Wu Ming. He had been so sure that Wu Ming was gone, dispersed by those vengeful spirits, never to return. But that painting! It gave him inexplicable hope, a little stirring of life in his chest.
It was now nearly six hundred years since that dark day when Wu Ming sacrificed himself, and Xie Lian ascended for the second time, only to depart heaven in a rush of swirling white robes, angry voices yelling after him, a few minutes later. Six hundred years. Could a ghost so cruelly torn apart reform himself in any amount of time?
Maybe it wasn’t entirely outside the realm of possibility as he had once believed. Xie Lian wanted to hope it could be something more than just coincidence. A smile stirred on his lips. He wanted to laugh. And yet, tears stung at the edge of his eyes. He also, just a little, wanted to cry.
"Ruoye?" he whispered. "Let's sleep. We're safe and dry, for tonight at least." The white ribbon stirred on his wrist, caressing his face with a comforting movement, and then settled back down.
Xie Lian drifted off into dreams that for once were peaceful. A rain of flowers, mostly red in hue, gently fell around him, blanketing him with soft petals like kisses, and a deep voice murmured affectionate nothings to him, declarations of love, promises of worship, hopeful prayers that he longed to hear.
Xie Lian awoke with the distinct feeling that someone was watching him. Sitting up, he looked around, taking in the coolness of the air after rain and the faint light that told him it was not too long after sunrise.
He was alone in the temple, but next to him on the ground was a tray of food, so freshly prepared that the snow-white congee was still steaming. Several youtiao, wrapped in cloth and placed in a basket to keep warm, were also on the tray.
Xie Lian sat all the way up, stomach growling. He hadn’t eaten anything the night before, and not much for the last few days. He was so hungry that before he could think too much about it, he’d reached for the spoon and was taking bites of congee, sighing in pleasure.
This had clearly been intended for him. Maybe some auntie with a compassionate heart had paid a very early visit to the temple and decided that daozhang looked a little thin. In any case, he would take it. Every bite was delicious, the youtiao crispy on the outside and soft inside, the congee warm and stimulating. When he was done he stood up, and quickly rolled his bedroll back up, fastening it to his pack. When he glanced into his bag, he saw that the tear which had been threatening to open up and spill the pack’s contents had been neatly mended. Reaching for his bamboo hat, he felt it all over; it too was repaired, almost as if new.
A generous and perceptive auntie, indeed! He set the empty tray with dishes and cutlery neatly piled together just inside the entrance of the temple. Looking around the room, he saw something he hadn't noticed before: a bright silver butterfly lingering overhead, flapping its wings lazily now and again.
Without thinking, he held out his hand to it, taking a few steps back toward the altar. "So pretty!" he said. "Come here, pretty thing." As if it had heard him and was obeying, it fluttered down toward him, alighting for a brief moment on his hand. It didn't look like any real creature he had ever seen, but was no less beautiful for that. A few seconds later, it took off, heading for the entrance.
Xie Lian followed it, opening the doors to let it out, and ventured out into the early morning sunshine. He had a spring in his step which he only now realised had been missing for quite some time. It had been a long time since he'd had such a good breakfast.
The morning air was fresh, the sun bright, the grass dewy. The temple sat among low hills, the road winding upward. Down in the valley the music of running water could be heard, and trees leant a comfortable shade over the path Xie Lian was following. After a moment, he turned to look back at the temple, sitting firm and steady at the last bend in the road, its stone walls carved as precisely as the statue inside, the establishment plaque as unreadable in bright sunlight as it had been in the rain the day before. He stared at it for a few minutes, but thought he could at best make out one word, the two characters for "hope."
He put his hands together and gave the temple a bow. "Thank you for your hospitality," he said, then moved on, rounding the curve and heading upward to where, he assumed, there must be a little village.
A few minutes' walk, and the path was joined by another. At the junction a handsome youth, aged maybe sixteen or so, sat on a large stone beneath a shady tree, a piece of long grass in his mouth, the very picture of pleasant idleness. He wore red outer robes, very fine and expensive looking, and black boots. On one of his fingers, there was tied a red thread.
Before he realised what he was doing, Xie Lian drew to a halt just to look at him. The youth had a fine face with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Their eyes met, and Xie Lian drew in a breath, unsure why his heart had started beating so fast. Something about this youth seemed familiar.
"Greetings, gege," the youth said, throwing the grass away and slowly moving to stand up, a courtesy and reverence in his movements that somehow was not belied by his cheerful and playful smile. This was a person who knew himself, and though young, carried himself with the weight of someone older, yet not burdened by life.
"Greetings, young master," Xie Lian returned. "If I may ask, what is the way to the nearest village?"
The young man came over, stepping lightly down the muddy path. "Both roads will take you there, gege, but it depends. Do you want to take the long way that will lead you to beautiful views, or are you in a hurry and need to get there soon?"
Xie Lian smiled. "I'm in no hurry, young master."
"Call me San Lang," the youth said. "In that case, why not walk with me on the longer path?"
"As long as I won't take you out of your way," Xie Lian said. "By the way, I'm called..." He trailed off, unsure. If there were temples to him here, it was likely his name was known. "I'm called Hua Xie." It was a name he'd used before from time to time, most recently in a very brief stay in the Banyue Kingdom, before he realised that war was coming and he needed to leave.
San Lang smiled brightly, seemingly a little too happy for someone just learning their road-companion's name. "It's a great honour for this one to meet you today," he said.
"What is young San Lang doing wandering on the road, if I may ask?" Xie Lian fell into step beside the young man, and together they turned toward the path leading uphill.
"My parents were fighting and as a result I was kicked out," San Lang said, clearly not very bothered about it. "I've been wandering ever since without a home of my own."
"That's a pity," Xie Lian said. "A man like you should have a home and people who love him."
"Maybe one day," San Lang said. "If I'm very lucky and work hard, I'll win over the person of my dreams."
Xie Lian looked up at him. There was a look on the face of San Lang that wasn't mischief or playful carelessness. In a moment, it was as if he had become someone else, someone much older and wiser. Whatever else you could say of the youth, it was clear he was very serious about this, in a way that was both childish and very mature at the same time. Somehow he combined the pure wonder and passion of a first love with the steady, settled determination of a grown person.
"San Lang has a beloved?" Xie Lian asked, some part of his heart selfishly whispering that whoever San Lang loved wasn't worth all this passion and dedication. There was a small seed of appreciation for this familiar-seeming, beautiful youth just beginning to take root in his heart.
"I do," San Lang said. "A noble, gracious, special someone. I've looked up to them for so long. I want to become stronger for them. I want to protect them."
Xie Lian couldn't tear his eyes away from the sincerity dripping from San Lang's voice and expression for a moment, and in that moment, his feet stumbled over themselves. He cried out, extending his hands to catch himself, but found himself caught by San Lang instead, who pulled him back, steadying Xie Lian against his chest. Xie Lian's heart was beating wildly, his breath caught in his throat, leaning against San Lang, a steady, solid presence.
"Sorry," Xie Lian whispered, not moving away.
"No need," San Lang answered, also not moving. They stood there together on the hillside, all but embracing. Xie Lian wanted, inexplicably, unbelievably, to not have to move from there for the next hundred years. Above him, San Lang swallowed, still not moving, and suddenly Xie Lian realised something; his own heart was beating fast, but San Lang's was silent. Gingerly, he disentangled himself from San Lang and stepped away, unable to look at him.
"Gege?" San Lang said, a question in his voice. "Are you all right?"
Xie Lian cleared his throat nervously, and looked up from the ground where his eyes had been focused, glancing across at San Lang's puzzled face. "Thanks to you, yes," he said.
As they began to move forward up the hillside again, Xie Lian considered. San Lang was a ghost, it seemed, but a strange one: in all other ways he was entirely lifelike. His fine black hair, caught back in a long ponytail, seemed just like regular hair, his fingernails were fingernails, and his teeth were teeth. Ghosts, unless they were very powerful, tended to edge toward unreality rather than looking and acting like normal humans.
They were coming up to a rather steep part of the path, almost a sheer climb up the hill. This particular path didn't seem much used by carts or horses, and was a bit neglected. San Lang darted ahead of Xie Lian up one part that pretty much was just climbing up some rocks, and once atop them, held out a hand for Xie Lian to take.
Such a courteous ghost! Whoever San Lang's beloved was, Xie Lian hoped that she was worthy of him. To have someone around to catch you when you fell, to help you through hard places, to work hard for your benefit, was a priceless treasure. He took San Lang's hand, and let himself be assisted up. They were at the top of the hill, and before them lay a long river valley, with higher snow-topped mountains off in the distance, blue and faint. An amorphous haze lay over the deep valley, and Xie Lian thought he could perhaps distinguish city walls far below. Silver flashes, as if metal reflecting sunlight, were visible in the haze, glimmering and glittering.
San Lang had not yet let go of his hand, and they stood together looking out, the cries of birds and the sound of the wind in the bushes and trees around them. There was no one else in sight, and it felt like a stolen, almost romantic, moment. He felt like he knew San Lang, had known him for years, and they were just meeting again after a long separation.
After a few minutes, Xie Lian stirred, tearing his eyes away from the beautiful view and looking over at San Lang, who met his eyes with a quirk of a smile. "Is gege enjoying what he sees?" San Lang asked.
"San Lang was right, this path does indeed have beautiful views," Xie Lian said. "What city is that in the valley?"
"Gege has such power, to see it by daylight," San Lang said. "That is Ghost City, imperceptible to most mortals, save some who cultivate, and also those in distress or need of aid. It's ruled over by the infamous Crimson Rain Seeking Flower, Hua Cheng."
"Hua Cheng, that's a beautiful name," Xie Lian said. "What more do you know about him? Why is he called Crimson Rain Seeking Flower?"
San Lang laughed, leading Xie Lian over to a large stone seat, worn by many travellers resting there. They sat down. "I can answer any questions gege has," San Lang said. "Tales say that many years ago, Hua Cheng emerged from Mount Tonglu, a newly-formed Devastation, a Ghost King. He founded and built Ghost City as a place of refuge for ghosts, who needed somewhere to stay so that they would not haunt the mortal world and cause trouble for the common people."
"How kind of him," Xie Lian said.
"It's not kindness that motivates him." San Lang made a gesture that encompassed all of the city below. "This is an act of worship to his god, who once declared that he wanted to save the common people."
"His god?" Xie Lian breathed, heart beginning to beat faster.
"Mn," San Lang answered, turning to face him. "His Highness the Crown Prince of Xian Le, the Flower-Crowned Martial God. He is the flower that Crimson Rain Seeking Flower is looking for, the god lost in the mortal world, wandering endlessly."
Xie Lian didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The look on San Lang's face was full of intense passionate longing. It didn't take a genius to realise that San Lang and Hua Cheng were one and the same. What burst out of him was a simple question. "Why?"
San Lang blinked rapidly, then leaned across to take Xie Lian's hands in his own. He looked overcome, breathless, in awe.
For a long moment they only stared at each other, words lost behind the truths that lay in both their faces. Then San Lang spoke, softly, quietly, almost a whisper. "I know who you are, gege," he said, voice so gentle. "I know you are my god. And I have been your believer ever since you saved my life, so long, long ago. It's all I wanted, to find you."
"I did not think I had any believers," Xie Lian said, looking down at his lap where their joined hands lay. "I thought I lost my last one, many years ago, my fault, my fault!"
"No, you didn't lose me," San Lang said, and slipped from where he was sitting on the rock to one knee before Xie Lian, changing his form along the way. A tall youth, long hair in a ponytail, a smiling mask upon his face.
The revelations were coming almost too fast for Xie Lian to take in. "My Wu Ming," he said softly, "it's really you? You weren't dispersed?"
"I held on," San Lang said. "For I have a beloved who is still in this world. He is the god I worship, the prince I follow, the man I love." He took a breath, and Xie Lian could sense a nervousness in him, even still. "So if you want to know why Crimson Rain Seeking Flower is seeking you, then the answer is love."
"I don't deserve it, Wu Ming," Xie Lian said. His heart was pounding rapidly, breath coming quick. It was too much to comprehend all at once. "I don't deserve it."
San Lang, still in the form of Wu Ming, bent his head. "I don't agree, I think you do," he said. "But also, to me it's not about what you deserve, it's about how you are loved, and I just wanted you to know that you are. We can part ways here if you want, and you can go back to wandering." He paused for a moment. "Or you can come with me to Ghost City. I won't keep you against your will, not ever. You are always free to go wherever you want, whenever you like. But if you will come and be my guest for a while, then my house can truly be called home as long as you are there to grace it."
Xie Lian smiled, though tears were lingering in his eyes. "I thought San Lang said he was wandering without a home to call his own."
"I have built many houses, but not one of them is home, if you are not in it."
"You're so insincere!" Xie Lian said, laughing to dispel the solemnity in San Lang's voice.
"Gege, I will always be sincere with you. I swear with all my heart, you will not find another more sincere person in this world." San Lang bent and kissed the hands he was holding through the mask, and Xie Lian's heart leaped into his throat. There was something so unassuming yet seductive about the gesture, and it took Xie Lian's breath away.
To cover the way his heart was pounding, he spoke quickly. "What do you want me to call you? Wu Ming, San Lang, Hua Cheng?"
San Lang looked up, smiling. "I would still prefer that gege call me San Lang." He smiled, and then went on, mischievously, "I'm so flattered that gege chose my name 'Hua' to call himself...!"
"San Lang!" Xie Lian couldn't help but laugh. Somehow it was so easy to laugh, with San Lang.
"S-San Lang!" Xie Lian exclaimed with a laugh as San Lang, laughing himself, took one of Xie Lian's hands into both of his own and pressed light kisses all over it. "You shouldn't joke about kissing my feet, San Lang shouldn't do such a dirty thing."
Xie Lian had been staying with Hua Cheng in Ghost City for a couple of months. He had been given a large luxurious bedroom, fresh clothes, access to Hua Cheng's own bathing pool, and anything and everything he wanted, from a stick of candy at the market to the contents of Hua Cheng's entire armoury.
More than that, the best gift was Hua Cheng himself. They had hardly spent a waking moment apart in the whole time, and Xie Lian hadn't enjoyed himself like this ever, in his whole life. Hua Cheng was a sparkling fountain of wit, full of mischief and playfulness, and yet utterly devoted and wholly sincere. If there was a limit to Hua Cheng's talents or generosity, Xie Lian had yet to find it.
Even now, San Lang simply smiled up from where he'd been kissing Xie Lian's hand and just said, "Nothing about gege is dirty, I would kiss any part of him. If gege ever wishes me to, I will kiss him all over."
Xie Lian's face flamed red, a hot flash of an unnamable feeling coursing through his body. No one had ever made him feel like this before. A random erection here and there as a teenager was nothing compared to what San Lang provoked in him every single day. He knew what it was like to feel the stirrings of desire now, and even reciting the ethics sutra every night in the dark privacy of his bedroom wasn't enough to keep the thoughts away.
He couldn't speak, couldn't summon up the words to reply to San Lang, but after a brief moment, San Lang just bent, kissed his hand again, then stood up. "Gege, would you like to spar?" he said, moving the conversation on without any hint of awkwardness or embarrassment.
Xie Lian most definitely would. Xie Lian allowed himself to be pulled up to San Lang's side, and hand-in-hand they headed to the armoury. Once there, San Lang pulled out E-ming, but it looked so miserable at the thought of fighting Xie Lian that he had to put it aside. Xie Lian, who had quickly come to love the sword's cute ways, gave it several pats, watching the eye go crescent-shaped in delight and the blade grow bigger the more Xie Lian petted it.
"Behave yourself, E-ming," San Lang said, and Xie Lian could swear the scimitar pouted when he stopped paying attention to it and turned toward the display of swords on the wall.
Today, Xie Lian picked out a long sword of multi-folded steel with a water pattern on the blade, flaming rubies set into the hilt. San Lang chose another scimitar. As if to match Xie Lian's blade, this was a longer sword than E-ming, forged of jewel steel from Dongyang.
They slowly circled each other, tension crackling between them. Xie Lian was always pleased that Hua Cheng never seemed to hold back when sparring with him, never let him take a win. More often than not, they fought to a draw, but sometimes Hua Cheng won, and sometimes Xie Lian did. It is what Xie Lian would always have wanted from his worshippers, rather than subservience, and it never failed to please him that Hua Cheng seemed to know that instinctively. As ever, trained skill mattered here, rather than spiritual powers, and they tested each other on equal ground.
Xie Lian broke forward first, blade steady. San Lang countered, and a flurry of blows followed, almost too fast for a mortal eye to see. Back and forward down the long wooden floor they chased each other, laughing sometimes, deadly serious other times, gracefully countering each other almost like they were dancing together. For Xie Lian, there was pure joy in the way he could move, could exercise every muscle with long-remembered skill. There was no need to guess at San Lang's feelings; he was smiling brightly, eyes dancing with excitement.
For all that Hua Cheng had laid himself out, love, shared history, and all, in a single conversation, there were still secrets between them. Hua Cheng had not yet shown Xie Lian his true form yet, preferring to hide behind the pretty skin of San Lang, and for a reason he couldn't quite define, Xie Lian had not yet asked. For all that San Lang was so easy to talk to about anything else, his own body seemed to be a source of nerves. Xie Lian could relate; there were times when he struggled to understand his body as a source of joy and not just pain.
But right now, there was nothing but joy. Feet and hair flying, Xie Lian caught San Lang's blade with his own, and then both swords slipped from his hands, flying to land with a crash some distance away, he neither saw nor cared where, trusting San Lang to use his spiritual energy to return them to their places in an instant. Half their matches ended up like this, switching smoothly from bladed combat to hand-to-hand, and San Lang laughed as he parried Xie Lian's hand with his own. Before long, they were rolling on the floor together, Xie Lian's hands at San Lang's shoulders, San Lang with a blissful half-smile on his face, his body yielding under Xie Lian's.
"Victory is mine!" Xie Lian exulted with delight, and then San Lang's sneaky hands came up around his hips, clasping him to roll them both over again. San Lang's knee landed between Xie Lian's thighs, and Xie Lian's breath caught.
"No," San Lang said, voice deeper than usual and intense, staring down at where he'd pinned Xie Lian. "Mine." It sounded like he was talking about more than just the match.
"Y-yours," Xie Lian whispered from a throat that felt dry as dust, all his blood rushing south to make his cock rise and press against San Lang's thigh. Fuck, I know he loves me, Xie Lian thought, mesmerised by San Lang's mouth, so near to his own. And then: I want more than anything to love him back.
San Lang pulled away, rising to his feet and extending a hand to help Xie Lian up, while Xie Lian lay panting, staring at the patterned ceiling and seeing nothing, unable to think for the arousal rushing through his veins. Truly, nothing had ever felt like this. Even the encounter with the Land of the Tender demons, torturous as it was, had only been bodily lust. This was far more than that.
Another few months went by, and Xie Lian stopped thinking about leaving, didn't consider the passage of time at all. There were a few days here and there when San Lang was busy with the affairs of Ghost City, and on those days, Xie Lian spent time in San Lang's workshop at the back of Paradise Manor, fixing the things he had collected. San Lang had portioned off a section of the workshop just for him, and large curtains separated the space from San Lang's own work. Sometimes Xie Lian peeked through the curtains, and could see sculptures in progress, or half-finished paintings.
Once, he had asked about them.
"Yes, gege, I'm the one who makes all the statues for the temples to you," San Lang said. "The murals too. I won't let unskilled hands near gege's image. I saw far too many inferior statues and paintings of you as a child in Xian Le."
"All the temples?" Xie Lian asked. "How many are there?"
San Lang led him to a large map, where dozens of small, neat images of temples all over the lands were marked. "I think about three hundred so far," he said. He pointed to Ghost City. "The biggest one is here, the Temple of a Thousand Lights."
"And the temple I took shelter in? The breakfast, was that you? You mended my bag, repaired my hat?"
"I'm caught!" San Lang laughed. "It was me, I found you sleeping there and couldn't resist doing something for gege, even before I could introduce myself."
"I thought you were a kind auntie!" Xie Lian said, laughing himself. "I couldn't read the name of the temple, what's it called?"
"An auspicious name, as it turns out." San Lang said, one hand coming up to gently touch Xie Lian's face. "The Temple of Eternal Hope."
"San Lang," Xie Lian whispered, transfixed by the emotion in Hua Cheng's eyes. There was an ache in his chest that yearned to be satisfied by kissing him, a desire that was quickly growing into an insatiable longing.
"No matter how long," San Lang said, "I would never stop looking for you. For always, you are my one and only god."
"How lucky you found me, then," Xie Lian said, and then, before he really could just spring up and kiss him, turned to the map again, pointing to a random temple. "Tell me about this one."
Xie Lian and Hua Cheng often went walking through Ghost City and the human villages nearby, where Xie Lian got to see some of his worshippers in person. He couldn't hear their prayers by any other than the normal human method, so when he met both ordinary people and ghosts who prayed to him, he would simply ask what they needed.
"God, I need a hand with the farming this year!"
"God, my wife is sick; please can you help?"
"God, my family needs protection as they travel."
"God, please help me find my beloved wife who died a few years ago. Things ended badly between us, I want to make it right so we can both rest in peace."
"God, please bless my cooking so that my restaurant becomes a success!"
Xie Lian listened to each prayer and blessed those who asked for it. Later on, he and Hua Cheng would work out how to help those who needed something practical.
It was certainly a surprise to the farmer when San Lang and Xie Lian showed up to help harvest crops.
The wife who was sick was given medicine from the best doctor that could be found in the nearby region, and she recovered fully.
The travellers were accompanied by a few ghost soldiers, and no one dared threaten them on the road.
The ghost who prayed for a reunion with her beloved wife, well, Hua Cheng personally handled that one, and the two lovers met in Ghost City, sobbing tears of mingled grief and joy at their meeting after death. Hand in hand, the two went to their rest together, in peace at last.
With Xie Lian's blessing, the cook who owned a restaurant found that although ordinary humans did not love her food, the ghosts of Ghost City absolutely did, and she became a huge success, often trading tips and tricks with Xie Lian himself.
Although, because of his cursed shackles, Xie Lian could not sense the accumulated merits or use the spiritual energy granted to him from grateful petitioners, the thanks he received felt like more than enough reward. After so long wandering without roots or community, unable to make more than the briefest impact in anyone's life, he finally felt like part of the world again.
If he wasn't in the workshop or with Hua Cheng, Xie Lian often spent time in the large library, catching up on the affairs of the world. He learned about the rise and fall of many gods, the deeds of Mu Qing and Feng Xin, and the many feats of Hua Cheng, scourge of the heavens. One day he came across a story from not long after Hua Cheng's emergence as a Ghost King.
"San Lang, you really fought thirty-three gods for my sake, just because they disrespected me, and you put your ashes on the line? Isn't that too dangerous? You could have been dispersed!"
Hua Cheng, sitting near Xie Lian on a long low divan, smiled in a way that could only be described as predatory. "I won, though," he said lazily.
"Don't do it again!" Xie Lian commanded. "You have to stay safe. I don't care about disrespect, but I do care about San Lang."
"Gege..." Hua Cheng said, looking a little dazed. Cartoon birdies could almost be seen floating around his head. He cleared his throat. "Gege, this one wants nothing more than to protect you." His lips dropped into a pout.
Xie Lian smacked him gently on the shoulder, then placed both his hands on San Lang's face, turning that pout toward himself. "I'm not worried about me," he said. "Don't make me worry about you."
Hua Cheng bent his head, not trying to get away, looking a bit miserable. "Gege shouldn't worry about this one. If I am dispersed in your defence, then to die for you will be my greatest honor, as it has always been."
Xie Lian felt an unfathomable sense of fear and loss at the very idea of San Lang dying for him. "Haven't you lived long enough by now to learn that I can survive anything? You don't need to defend me. Please don't make me survive the loss of you."
If anything, this made Hua Cheng look even more miserable, and too late, Xie Lian remembered that Hua Cheng had once mentioned being present as a ghost flame when White No-Face engineered the situation that involved him being pierced with a sword over a hundred times. "Oh, oh no," he said, and pulled San Lang toward himself, wrapping his arms around him. For a long moment, San Lang's head rested against his shoulder, Xie Lian's white robes going damp where San Lang was weeping against him.
When San Lang raised his head, starting to draw back, Xie Lian caught him, held him. They looked at each other for a long moment, teary-eyed in shared memory and grief. Then Xie Lian drew Hua Cheng close again, and without a word, their lips met, brief but intense, with the taste of salt. It was a kiss of comfort on the surface of it, but each of them knew it marked a change, and that things could never be the same.
They did not mention it again, but the next morning, Xie Lian found a beautiful ring on a chain around his neck when he awoke. He clasped it to himself for a long moment, then quietly, slipped it underneath his robes and never took it off from then on, except to bathe.
They did not always stay in Ghost City or the surrounding region, often venturing out into the wider world by means of the clever dice Hua Cheng carried. Sometimes Hua Cheng took Xie Lian to see the temples he had built all across the lands, each one with a poetic and illegible name.
"This one is the Temple of Sweet Memory," Hua Cheng told him, on one of their adventures about a year after Xie Lian's arrival in Ghost City. "We are where Xian Le used to be, and this temple is built on the place where a small shrine to you once used to stand. I don't know if you remember this, but you spoke to me here. You told me to live for you."
"Ohh, San Lang," Xie Lian said, covering his embarrassed face with his hand, "I was so arrogant back then. I really thought I could save the world."
"Gege, no," Hua Cheng said, gently drawing Xie Lian's hand away from his face, "you helped me survive."
"And then I got you killed in battle anyway," Xie Lian said, peering up at him, face red.
"It was my choice." San Lang smiled down at him. "I don't regret anything. Not living for you, not dying for you, not a single moment of believing in you. I will love you and worship you for as long as the earth and sky exist, no hesitation, no doubts. Every banquet must come to an end, but I will never leave you."
"Even after what you saw as Wu Ming?" Xie Lian said, knowing the answer and still needing to ask the question. "And when you followed me as a ghost flame, even then?"
San Lang clasped his hands together and bent his head. "Even so."
Xie Lian caught his hands with his own. "Then allow me to believe in you too."
San Lang tilted his head, questioning. "What do you mean?"
"Let me see your true form." Xie Lian looked him in the eye, and San Lang backed off, unable to meet his eyes.
"What if my true form is hideous? What if I'm a monster? Isn't it much more pleasant this way?"
"I still want to see my believer as he is," Xie Lian said. "For you matter, not the state of you. If you are hideous, a monster, I will still care for you just the same. Isn't what we have now worth more than your fear?"
"Gege," Hua Cheng breathed, and then all at once his face settled into sweet obedience and he changed. His form grew taller, more angled, older-looking, more like someone in their early twenties than a young teenager. His hair fell over his face, loosened, wilder, and then Hua Cheng swept it back. Beneath was only one eye, the other one covered by an eyepatch.
"There you are," Xie Lian said, and reached up, much further up, to put his arms around Hua Cheng's neck and drag him down into a kiss. Stunned, it took a moment for San Lang to put his own arms around Xie Lian, but then they were kissing properly, and it was wondrous.
Xie Lian spared a moment to wish that the very first thing he'd done when they met was kiss San Lang, because they could have been doing this for months now, but he was quickly swept away by sensation: the cool touch of his believer's lips, the way San Lang's unnecessary breath made his chest rise and fall, how San Lang's heart, silent for so long, burst into stuttering heartbeats. Kisses had a marvellous way of destroying any train of thought in favour of pure feeling, and Xie Lian was caught up in what seemed to be a tidal wave of sensation, his whole body feeling nothing but the joy and pleasure of it, happiness so bright he would have laughed if it would not have broken the kiss.
"San Lang, San Lang!" was the only thing Xie Lian could gasp out when they finally broke apart. Hua Cheng held him close, murmuring endearments and low words in a hoarse, broken voice. There was nothing in the world but the two of them, in a lonely temple in a ruined city.
"My beloved, my god," Hua Cheng whispered.
"San Lang, let's go home," Xie Lian said, taking Hua Cheng's hand and turning toward the temple doors.
Fumbling with the dice in an uncharacteristically awkward move, Hua Cheng opened the door to Paradise Manor, and they walked through, into the large hall where they often sat together.
Xie Lian was panicking inside, just a bit. "San Lang, I'm a little hungry," he said, and then shook his head. "No, it's not hunger."
"Whatever gege wants, this San Lang will provide," Hua Cheng said, wrapping an arm around Xie Lian's waist and holding him close.
"Maybe kiss me again," Xie Lian said in a low voice, and Hua Cheng was quick to obey, bending down to press little joyful kisses all over his face, finally finding his mouth and taking it with his own. This kiss was no less wondrous than the last, and Xie Lian buried his face in San Lang's shoulder when it broke, trembling with desire.
"San Lang, I want more," he said.
Hua Cheng answered by sweeping him into his arms, carrying him in a flying rush of sensation through a random door and almost immediately across the room onto a bed. This room was not Xie Lian's own; it was furnished in dark reds, a sensual space that felt fit for a wedding night. Xie Lian threw his arms around Hua Cheng's neck and raised his face for another kiss; it was granted. In moments he was writhing against San Lang, desperate for something he couldn't quite name or define. Hua Cheng bent down, burying his face in Xie Lian's neck, kissing just below the bandages that covered the cursed shackle there.
"Gege, your cultivation," he breathed, drawing back. They were both hard and panting, bodies pressed together through their clothing.
"I know, I know," Xie Lian responded. The question had been weighing on him for quite some time, and all of a sudden it seemed quite inconsequential. No paths, after all, were bound. "You mean more, my Wu Ming, my Hong-er, my Hua Cheng, my San Lang, the Crimson Rain Seeking Flower who sought me and found me. You took me as your reason to live, so long ago." He gazed up at San Lang, their eyes meeting. "Let me take you as mine, now."
"Gege," Hua Cheng said, sounding like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Then the implications caught up with him. "You don't have to break your cultivation for me, this one is more than content merely with being beside you for any time you will allow it."
Xie Lian smiled up at Hua Cheng. "I'm not breaking my cultivation just for you. I'm breaking it because it's what I want. Because I want to be with you in every way, not just beside you, and I know it's what you want too." He reached up, caressing Hua Cheng's face. "My sweet San Lang, let me be yours, as you are mine."
Hua Cheng did not answer with words, but bent down and kissed him again. Within moments, they were struggling out of their clothing, throwing it any which way, some of it torn. Xie Lian lifted Hua Cheng's bright silver jewellery from his neck and wrists, laying it aside on the table beside the bed. Hua Cheng distractedly wrestled Xie Lian's feet out of his boots, taking time to press kisses to his knees and run his hands over his god's legs.
At last they were sitting together on the bed, both naked, save for the chain around Xie Lian's neck and the two cursed shackles he wore. Xie Lian lifted the ring on its chain with shaking fingers. "These are your ashes, am I right?" he said.
Hua Cheng nodded. "They have always belonged to you."
Xie Lian closed his hand around the ring. "Then I will always keep them safe." He raised himself onto his knees, kissing Hua Cheng. Their bodies met unclothed for the first time and both of them moaned into the kiss, low and desperate.
"My god, my love, what do you want? I will give you anything, do it with you any way you like," Hua Cheng said. "My hands, my mouth, my cock, my hole, all are for your pleasure."
Xie Lian closed his eyes, a flush high on his cheeks. "I want you inside me," he breathed so softly it was almost inaudible. "I want to feel you come in me. But I don't know what to do, I've never done this before, never even thought about what I might want before I met you."
"I know," Hua Cheng said. "I've never done this either. But I've thought about it a lot, and I've read books." He laid a hand on Xie Lian's head, sliding down his hair gently. "I hoped that if I worked hard, and was very lucky, I'd win over the person of my dreams. So I prepared for this day."
He guided Xie Lian to lie back on the soft cool bedding, then reached into a small woven basket on the bedside table for a little pot containing a gelatinous substance. "This is made from red algae. It's slippery and will help ease the way."
Xie Lian, blushing, eased his knees apart, letting Hua Cheng between his thighs. His erection stood proudly, leaking clear drops of fluid, and Hua Cheng bent down for a moment, taking a quick lick from the tip.
"San Lang!" Xie Lian exclaimed, laughing.
"Gege tastes wonderful," Hua Cheng said, his fingers sliding down to press against Xie Lian's hole.
Xie Lian squirmed impatiently. "Feels good, San Lang, please!"
Hua Cheng pushed two slick fingers in, and Xie Lian saw stars exploding behind his closed eyelids. It felt so amazing that he could not help but press down into those fingers, forgetting to be embarrassed, lost in the pleasure of it. Somewhere deep within him, his cultivation was beginning to drain away, but it felt like no loss compared to the intense rapture of this.
Another finger quickly followed, and another after that: Hua Cheng was well-endowed and knew it. Xie Lian had been prepared for pain, had always heard that pain could be involved in this, but there was no pain, just pressure that felt satisfying, and sparks of utter ecstasy whenever San Lang touched his prostate.
It felt like both an eternity and no time at all before Hua Cheng was pushing inside him, cock larger than even four fingers, slippery with gel. Xie Lian had long lost all sense of shame and was moaning with abandon, tears sliding down his face, crying out whenever Hua Cheng touched something that felt especially good.
Deep within him at last, Hua Cheng bent over him, pressing kisses to his face, licking away the traces of sweat and tears. "My beloved, my god," he whispered, barely able to keep his breath steady. Xie Lian, incoherent, could only raise his mouth, begging wordlessly to be kissed as Hua Cheng began to thrust.
Spiritual energy spilled into the kiss, Hua Cheng's red-gold flame turning white as it entered Xie Lian's body. Around their joined bodies, a red thread made of spiritual power wound itself, tying them together. The cursed shackles at Xie Lian's throat and ankle began to glow white, then to crack with golden flame, but neither of them saw it, lost in each other.
Ecstasy overcame Hua Cheng. With a wordless cry, he spilled, buried in Xie Lian's body to the hilt, a surging bliss that seemed to go on and on, every sensation driving him to new heights, until he could take no more, and was barely managing to hold himself up.
Xie Lian gave one final gasp as he felt Hua Cheng trembling above him, then the wave of orgasm crashed over him, blinding, satiating. The last of his cultivation blinked out, but was hardly noticed as a new wave of spiritual energy rushed in, filling him to the brim. At his neck and ankle, the cracking shackles gave way, exploding in a rush of white light.
All went dark, and the two of them lay trembling with aftershocks together, pressing kisses to whatever parts of each other they could reach, for a long, long time.
When Xie Lian's eyes fluttered open, after a long time of drifting in a pleasant and sated darkness, it was to see San Lang taking the red thread wrapped around his finger and offering one end to Xie Lian, who took it and tied it promptly to his own matching finger.
San Lang smiled, and with the look of someone given a task to perform that they have long anticipated, started kissing Xie Lian all over, tiny happy pecks to his face, little bites to his neck and shoulders.
Xie Lian shivered with pleasure, laughing. "San Lang, San Lang, can we do it again?"
"As many times as gege wants," Hua Cheng answered.
200 Years Later
"Another day's work well done, San Lang," Xie Lian said, hand in hand with Hua Cheng, red string to red string, as they passed through an array into the grand hall of Paradise Manor. Today, they had found a lost ox, mended three houses that were falling apart, and captured a Malice that was harassing a village, bringing it back to Ghost City.
Hua Cheng was smiling. "I'll deal with that Malice tomorrow; he's locked up in Ghost City jail for now."
"Mn," Xie Lian agreed. "What do you want to have for dinner, San Lang?"
Hua Cheng looked around, the smile falling from his face. "Gege, are you feeling...?"
Xie Lian was just beginning to notice it: a familiar tug behind his navel. Outside Paradise Manor, there was a thunderstorm, lightning flashing overhead. "San Lang!" he cried out, holding Hua Cheng's hand with all his might.
The flaming white-hot rush of ascension overcame him; in a flash he was no longer in Paradise Manor, but in the heavens, still shaking and rattling with earthquakes that had knocked down palaces and toppled bells from their places. When things settled, he realised two things.
First, and most importantly, he was still holding Hua Cheng's hand. Beside him, Hua Cheng was gazing out with an annoyed look at the people gathering nearby.
Second, there was a crowd rapidly assembling, muttering and whispering, which quickly went from being just beyond the range of what he could hear to being clearly audible.
"The Crown Prince Scrap-Collecting God and Crimson Rain Seeking Flower! Those two! They -- they -- they fucking ascended again!"
Halfway up a lonely hillside, a few minutes’ walk from a village full of ordinary people and a slightly longer walk from Ghost City, there is to this very day a temple.
Inside on the altar stands a statue of a god, holding a sword in a defensive position in one hand, to save the common people. And in the other there is a fresh white flower, always renewed. At his feet is a bag overflowing with random broken things. This is the Flower-Crowned Martial God, the Crown Prince who is also just a scrap collector.
But now, he is not alone. Behind him, arms wrapped around his waist and staring lovingly down at him, there is a statue of a red-robed ghost king, silver butterflies flying out behind him, a wicked-looking scimitar with one vibrant red eye at his side. This is Hua Cheng, the Crimson Rain who sought and found his flower.
On one hand of each statue, a red thread is tied, joining them together for eternity.
They must be worshipped together, the legends say, and then, whatever is prayed for will be granted, if perhaps by a different way than the asker is expecting. For here, in the Temple of Eternal Hope, no paths are bound.